


Ribbons and Beaus

by shortcircuitify



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fashion & Couture, Fluff, Forehead Kisses, Insecurity, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 07:15:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7257820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortcircuitify/pseuds/shortcircuitify
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Priscilla, still not fully recovered from her scars, worries about her dear Dandelion's affections.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ribbons and Beaus

She combed the ends of her hair as she looked at her reflection in the vanity.

"Prissy!" Dandelion's deep voice cut through her reverie, and she turned abruptly to see him standing in the doorway to their bedroom, "I'll be out for a moment, and be right back, alright?" His eyes were a little apprehensive – he always was when leaving her alone – but also a little sad, and she wished he could look at her and be happy for once. She didn't want his sympathy anymore.

She gave him a small smile and a nod. She tried not to use her voice too often, fear seizing her throat most days, and he gave her a wide grin and 'farewell' in return.

She turned back to her vanity and winced before continuing brushing her hair. She heard the main door to the Rosemary & Thyme close and leaned over her vanity to see Dandelion walking down the streets of Novigrad, until he was out of sight. She sighed.

She was certain that one day, she would regain her voice. Learn to sing again, just like Dandelion loved, and speak normally without the hoarseness she had become so used to. She was sure of it.

What she wasn't certain of was how she was going to live with the scar marring her neck – starting at the tip of her chin all the way down to the center of her collarbone. It was hideous, and no matter how high a collar she wore, she could never seem to hide it fully.

She felt so ugly.

She stopped her combing, and stared at herself for a moment. She wasn't the same Priscilla Dandelion had admired all those months ago – she wasn't the same Priscilla that he had fallen in love with, had settled with for the moment.

Her stomach roiled uncomfortably. Why did he decide to stay with her? She had nothing of what he had initially liked so much about her – her voice was gone for the moment, probably would never be the same, her looks were gone now, and most of her days she spent either at the Rosemary or writing in her room. She lost her bubbliness.

And she was no fool either – she knew of Dandelion's impressive list of 'female friends', as he liked to call them. She was not surprised – Dandelion was such an amazing man, who wouldn't love him – could resist him? But in some small place in her heart, she couldn't help but doubt – why was he not with one of them? Surely they would make a much more handsome couple than him walking the streets of Novigrad with _her._ She shook herself from her thoughts; no, that wasn't fair to him, Dandelion was more than that – he was deep, kind, caring, loving…

Did he feel pity for her, was that the only reason that he stayed with her all this while then? Her heart ached – he deserved much better than having to take care of her every day.

Feet thumping up the stairs pulled her from her thoughts, and she turned quickly to see Dandelion standing in the doorway yet again. He had that wide grin that she loved so much on his face, but it was quickly replaced with a look of concern. He approached her and lifted her into his arms, and then sat down at her vanity with her in his lap. He wiped his thumb against her cheek – she hadn't realized that she was crying.

"Prissy, what's wrong?" He asked, voice soft and soothing.

She shook her head, _nothing was wrong,_ but he didn't buy it, "Please Pris, you can tell me anything," he pleaded, mouth turned in a frown. This was what she didn't want anymore – him to be worried about her all the time. He deserved better.

She pulled herself away from him, standing up and walking to the other side of the room. She loved him so much, he deserved to be happy, and before her nerves could get the best of her she turned back to him, eyes locked on his, and said quietly, "I think we should see other people, Dandelion."

Silence.

It looked like his world shattered in that moment, and her heart hurt. He pulled himself together in an instant, however, "What are you talking about? Do you – do you not want to be with me anymore?" He looked affronted at the thought, and she wondered why he was so concerned – she had heard from Geralt that he had been dumped on more occasions than he could remember.

The concern in his voice made her stutter, however, and she played with the hem of her tunic, not looking at him, "No! W-well it's just that – I'm not the same Priscilla, you know. And I'm not very pretty anymore, and I can't sing like you love so much. You deserve to be happy, Dandelion…" she trailed off, uncertain once more.

Dandelion got up abruptly, moved to her side, and pulled her into his arms once more, pushing her into the ruffled fabric of his tunic. She allowed the tears to fall as she pushed her face into the crook of his neck.

"Hey," he began softly, "Do you take me for so little?" he laughed gently, and "I don't stay with you just because you're the most beautiful woman ever, or you have the voice of an angel, you know. You're so much more than that!"

"But I'm not _that_ anymore!" She cried.

Picking her up, he crossed over to their bed, keeping her in his lap while he stroked her back soothingly. Once her sobs quieted down, he kissed her on the head.

"I love how intelligent and clever and kind you are," he began, and she could already feel the smile coming to her lips. He just had that effect over her.

He pulled her back enough so that he could kiss her eyelids, "I love your eye for fashion, and the way your eyes light up whenever you perform," he continued, kissing her soundly on the mouth, "I love your witty words, and smiles – oh! Your smiles!" Next, he was kissing the scar on her neck. She stiffened, but he continued giving her soft kisses along its length, "I love how strong you are," he whispered.

He continued downwards, his hands massaging her hips and relaxing her. He kissed her collar bone, and she shivered pleasantly, "I love your heart. And I love that it chose me," he moved his face up to hers, "Is that selfish of me? You know, I don't really care if it is. I _do_ love it." He wiggled his eyebrows, and she let out a breathy laugh.

She burrowed herself into his arms once more, "Thank you. I'm sorry you have to deal with me like this."

"I know you may not feel the best right now, but I'll be here for you through everything. Until you feel ready to be 'Priscilla' again – I'll be here. I want _you_ to be happy, no matter how long it takes. I just –" he huffed, frustrated, and she was surprised that for once, he was at a loss for words, "This is exactly what I didn't want! And – I know this might not be much but – oh, just come here," he began pulling her back to her vanity, and plopped her down into her seat. He stood behind her, fumbling in his tunic for something or other.

Once he found it, he demanded she closed her eyes, and once they were, she felt his fingers massaging the back of her neck. And then Dandelion was pulling something over it, something smooth and soft, and he couldn't have told her to open her eyes sooner.

Her neck had a neat, large, ribbon tied around it, ending in a large bow off-centered. Her eyes widened. It was a simple - deep, royal purple, and the softest silk she had ever felt – this was no doubt expensive, and probably rare. Her eyes watered.

Something to cover her scar – albeit poorly – but he had done it just for her.

"I mean, I don't know if you'll like it, you _are_ the more fashionable of us two," he laughed nervously, twirling one of the ends of fabric with his finger, "But I just can't stand you staring at yourself like you're a monster!" He almost hissed the word, and then cupped her cheek, his voice and eyes soft, "You're beautiful, Prissy. You don't deserve that."

The scar was still visible through the bow. But she didn't really seem to care anymore.


End file.
